Permission and Forgiveness
by H.Georgia
Summary: Shortly after the angels, Metatron, Ezekiel, and Abaddon...when the Winchesters have won, they sit on the Impala and look up at the stars and Sam asks Dean one more time why he did it. Post Season 9.


There was no time to get angry when Sam found out about Ezekiel. Heated words were exchanged, sure, but the real rage and the true fury were shoved down into a dark pit in the coldest deepest recesses of his mind where things like rage and fury and depression were shoved when the Winchesters had more important things to deal with.

No wonder they were so screwed up.

And there, in that dark pit, time and a lack of prescense at the forefront of Sam's mind turned that fury and rage into anger and the anger turned into frustration and the frustration turned into irritation until Sam and Dean were sitting on the hood of the Impala looking up at the night sky and Sam realized that subconsciously at least he'd dealt with what Dean had chosen and all that was left was acceptance, sympathy, resignation, and love. Things had predictably blown up in their faces because of Dean's decision and Sam had made some remarkably poor choices as well but in typical Winchester fashion they cleaned up their mess, crawled away from the destruction, licked their wounds, and stitched themselves together. "Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean asked with his voice carrying that distracted, far away tone that he got when he had a lot on his mind.

Sam pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at Dean who was still leaned back against the windshield with his hands tucked under his head. "I want to talk."

Dean's eyes flickered from the sky to Sam's face and he snorted. "What else is new?"

Sam felt the corners of his mouth tug up but the smile didn't make it all the way to his face. "I want to talk about Zeke."

Dean blinked and it was just marginally longer than Dean's blink should have been. Sam watched his throat as he swallowed heavily and then sucked in a ragged breath. When he opened his eyes again Sam could read all the grief, guilt, and pain that this subject brought up. "What about it?"

The words coupled with Dean's already gruff sounding voice might have been interpreted as snark by anyone but Sam, but Sam knew Dean better than that. The words were pure. Dean didn't want to apologize if Sam didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to argue if Sam didn't want a discussion, he didn't want to bring up memories if Sam didn't want to remember. Whatever it was that Sam wanted to know about Zeke is exactly what Dean would give him, nothing more and nothing less. "Can you just, I don't know, explain it to me?"

Dean's eyes flickered back up to the sky, like he couldn't bear to look at Sam while he talked about it. "Explain what, Sam? Why? How? When? What do you want me to explain?"

"Just, tell me what happened. I know you told me before but we were both angry and hurt and I want to hear it now," Sam said.

Dean sighed. His shoulders rolled and popped and cracked with the movement. "You collapsed back at the church and the worst part was, for maybe two minutes you were fine and the light was gone and I couldn't feel it and you smiled, and then you just dropped. God, you just gave out and I had to catch you. We made our way out to the car and unbelievably you seemed to collapse more. I didn't think it was possible but it was like your body was just breaking down bit by bit. I had this horrible image that you'd just shatter or dissolve in my arms."

Sam remembered some of that but not well. After the first trial he remembered being sore and tired and a faint feeling of sticking his finger in a light socket. It was unpleasant but not awful. After the second trial his vision had blurred, his skin stretched, his organs seemed to revolt inside his body, some days he'd feel like everything was on fire including him and the next he'd be frozen and trapped inside an iceberg. By the time he was curing Crowley Sam didn't know anything but pain and fear and the crushing, mind-numbing feeling of being slammed by a tidal wave again and again. Every memory was blurry and painfully clear at the same time.

Dean kept talking. "And then we were at the hospital and it wasn't okay. It wasn't remotely okay. The doctor came in and told me it was in God's hands and I've never come closer to killing a person. But you know, despite that I still went to the angels first. I thought, last time we went to the demons and we ended up starting the apocalypse so this time I'm going to go to the angels. I prayed to Cas, I didn't know he was human at the time, and when that didn't work I just sent it out to everyone. It was stupid, even if I would have begged them for help I could have gone about it a better way, a smarter way. You would have known what to do."

"I doubt that," Sam said quietly.

"You're not the selfish one, Sammy. I just act, I don't think," Dean said. He shook his head. "Anyway, eventually Zeke showed up. We talked, he made some very persuasive arguments, and Cas said he was okay…I was willing to believe anything at that point."

Behind them, on the road, a car drove by blasting rap music that kind of broke the reverie. Sam twisted around and just managed to glimpse the taillights before the car disappeared into the darkness. The field fell into silence again, an owl hooted, and Dean kept talking. "It was like one ton of bricks would fall on me and then another. The angels came, trying to get to Cas, and then Zeke told me he couldn't heal you, and then the machines would go off, and my world was falling apart. I was bleeding, bruised, tired, and wounded and I was losing the only thing that I'd ever cared about. I was weak and he knew it. When he gave me my options, I knew they were wrong and I knew it wasn't the right thing to do but I couldn't say no."

Sam sighed. Of course not, Dean would never be able to say no when it came to Sam. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged again. "You know. We talked and you said yes and Zeke slipped in. It wasn't until Cas that I really started acknowledging the stupidity of my plan. It was physically painful when Zeke kept me from telling you about the possession after we took down Hestia. Then things really went wrong…"

Sam didn't push when Dean trailed off. Sam was painfully aware of how things had gone down from there. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Dean asked, closing his eyes again.

"I wish you hadn't been put in that situation. I know it was a difficult situation. You wouldn't have made the choice any other way," Sam said.

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy," Dean said and Sam recognized the quote by Martin Luther King Jr. When he got no response Dean opened one eye to peer at Sam and rolled it when he saw the look of surprise and confusion on Sam's face. "Believe it or not but behind this pretty face is a brain of passable intelligence."

"Where'd you learn it?" Sam failed to stop himself from asking the question.

"You…well, kind of. You did a report on Martin Luther King Jr. back in fourth grade and that quote was part of the report," Dean said.

Sam marveled at a man who, twenty one years later, could remember a quote from his little brother's fourth grade research paper. "I forgot about that."

"Yeah, you forgot about it that day too. Dad was so pissed when you called him to drive it to school for you," Dean said. Finally Dean sat up. "So, what brings up the subject of Zeke?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm just trying to understand."

"Understand what? How I knew it was bad and still made the decision? I was more okay with asking your forgiveness then your permission. If you were alive and away from me then at least you were alive. How did I not tell you sooner? Zeke was very clear about what would happen to you if you chose to kick him out and you were stubborn enough to do it. I'm not proud to admit it but I gave Zeke a human shield because he promised not to let you die if I did so and then I had the audacity to be surprised when he used you against me," Dean said with a grim chuckle. "An angel using the Winchesters against each other? What an original idea?"

"Dean…" Sam said. He didn't want his brother to wallow in shame and guilt from his decision.

Dean cast a hard look at Sam. "What, Sam? You going to tell me it was okay to hand Zeke the proverbial gun he put to your head? You going to say it was the right choice to let Zeke use you like a leash to keep me in line? Was it noble to sacrifice our freedom and safety? Was it okay when Zeke told me that I was backed into a corner? I couldn't get him out, I couldn't get you to kick him out, I couldn't kill him without killing you. There were no options and I'd put myself in that position which is one thing but I dragged you down to do it. Why? Because I'm selfish."

Sam wanted to reach out and comfort his brother but he knew it wouldn't be taken well. He tried to ignore the tear that slid down Dean's cheek. "I'm not angry with you, Dean. You shouldn't be angry with yourself either."

"It's not that easy," Dean mumbled.

"Sure it is," Sam said and then repeated his brother's words from that night in the church. "Just let it go."


End file.
